Сара Морган – Royal Affairs: Desert Princes & Defiant Virgins: The Sheikh's Virgin Princess / The Sheikh and the Virgin Secretary / Desert Prince, Defiant Virgin (страница 2)

‘That could be part of it, but maybe not all. Your Excellency is extremely handsome. You are considered to be something of a matrimonial prize.’

The Sultan gave a humourless laugh and then paced over to the window, his expression bleak. A prize? If the princess knew what she would be taking on, then she wouldn’t be so eager to proceed with the wedding. As cold as the desert at night—wasn’t that how the last female in his life had bitterly described him when he’d abruptly ended the relationship?

He stared down into the courtyard below, wondering why that description didn’t bother him more. Possibly because it was true. He wasn’t capable of love; he knew that. But nor did he see that as a reason for regret. He’d seen what love could do to a person, and he wasn’t interested in sacrificing his judgement in exchange for emotional anguish. What did interest him was acting responsibly for the good of his country. And marrying the most notorious princess in Europe wasn’t going to achieve that objective.

He turned to Omar, his movements swift and decisive. ‘You are sure that the princess has the right to break this contract?’

‘Absolutely. The only person who can free you from this wedding is the woman herself.’

‘Then it will be done.’ The Sultan gave a satisfied nod. ‘Omar, you have excelled yourself.’

‘Your Excellency, I hardly need to remind you that the princess does want to marry you, so the details of the contract are somewhat irrelevant.’

‘Not irrelevant,’ the Sultan drawled softly. ‘The princess may wish to marry me at the moment, but given time and a little—persuasion—I’m confident that she will soon see that this marriage is not for her.’

‘You plan to influence her decision, Your Excellency?’

‘Absolutely. The problem is solved, Omar. The Princess Alexandra is going to decide that marriage to me would be an extremely bad idea. And, given that most women are appallingly indecisive, we are going to offer her every assistance in reaching that conclusion. I intend to see to it personally.’ He gave a grim smile.

No matter what she had in mind, she would not be marrying the Sultan.

CHAPTER ONE

THE blades of the swords clashed viciously, and the room rang with the sharp sound of metal on metal.

Karim tightened his hand on the hilt of the sabre and lunged, sending his blade towards his opponent’s torso with a burst of explosive power that drew a collective gasp from the observers gathered around the room.

Karim ignored them. All his attention was focused on his opponent, whose identity was concealed by the dark mesh of the protective fencing-mask.

Attack, counter attack. Lunge, feint, parry.

They fought with relentless aggression, each trying to outmanoeuvre the other as they fenced for supremacy. The referee stood frozen to the spot, silenced by the sheer ferocity of the duel taking place in front of him.

Even as he fought, Karim was studying his opponent, trying to anticipate his moves. And failing. For the first time in his life, he was equally matched. His nameless, faceless opponent was changing his strategy for each attack, his movements swift and skilled, his footwork immaculate. The man was slight of build, but he moved with the speed and agility of a true athlete.

Karim felt the sweat prickle between his shoulder blades as the pace and intensity of the fight increased.

When he’d been informed that the Princess Alexandra had insisted on watching him fence before agreeing to let him be her bodyguard for the journey to Zangrar, he’d been both amused and irritated. Clearly, she was a real prima donna. It was the first time he’d fought in response to a feminine whim, and he’d strolled into the room prepared to thrash his opponent in a matter of minutes. Instead he was being seriously challenged in a sport at which he’d considered himself unbeatable.

Unaccustomed to meeting anyone who had either the nerve or the skill to take him on, Karim had been pleasantly surprised to discover that his anonymous opponent possessed both qualities in abundance, along with technical and tactical depth. He was even more astonished to discover that he was enjoying himself.

Who was the man in the mask?

Protocol demanded that fencing opponents salute each other at the start of each bout, and his opponent had observed that protocol, but he’d also entered the room fully prepared, his mask already in place.

Accustomed to boredom, Karim felt the adrenaline surge inside him, and vowed to reveal the identity of his partner. Whoever it was would be fencing him again, he vowed as he parried and then thrust, his movements confident and aggressive. The blade struck home in a lightning-fast attack, the force of the blow absorbed by the flex of the blade.

His opponent stepped backwards, his body already poised for the next attack, and Karim gave a low laugh of admiration. Although the man was slightly lacking in height, he was bold and fearless, attacking with an energy and confidence that was unusual.

Briefly distracted by girlish laughter, Karim cast a swift, irritated glance towards the spectators, his attention momentarily drawn to a group of women watching with flirtatious interest.

Which one of those was the Princess Alexandra?

And what indulgent, feminine whim had driven her to demand that he prove himself in this fight before allowing him the honour of becoming her bodyguard? Obviously she was spoiled, bored and entertained by the idea of men fighting for her. Did she enjoy blood sports?

He turned his attention back to his adversary, anger giving speed to his attack, but his opponent parried with a renewed burst of energy, grimly determined not to yield a single point.

Karim was as intrigued as he was challenged.

If he hadn’t known better, he would have thought that the duel was personal.

And yet how could it be personal when they didn’t even know each other?

Deciding that the match had gone on long enough, Karim made the most of his superior strength and speed and executed a perfect lunge that won him the final point.

Breathing heavily, he dragged off his mask.

‘My match.’ He held out his hand as protocol dictated. ‘So, having slain the dragon, I presume I’ve now won the right to protect the princess. Perhaps you would introduce me so that I can be given my next challenge? Pistols at dawn, perhaps? Remove your mask. I deserve to see the face of the man I just fought.’

His opponent hesitated, and then dragged off the mask. ‘Not a man.’ She spoke in a warm, husky voice designed by mother nature to bring the entire opposite sex to its knees, and Karim inhaled sharply as a mass of golden, coppery hair tumbled over narrow shoulders. Even though he knew the dangers that often lurked behind extreme physical beauty, he was blinded.

Observing his reaction with wry amusement, she held out a slender hand and spoke again. This time her voice was soft, as if she were afraid of being overheard. ‘I’m Princess Alexandra. And you’re supposed to be my bodyguard. The problem is, I don’t actually want a bodyguard. You weren’t supposed to win the match. I’m afraid you’ve had a wasted journey.’

She’d lost!

Desperately hoping that he couldn’t see how much her legs were shaking, Alexa watched incredulity flicker across his handsome face as he acknowledged her identity. And he was handsome, she conceded as she brushed her damp hair away from her flushed cheeks. Handsome and strong.

She’d felt the power in his body as he’d fought with what could only be described as restrained masculine aggression. And she sensed that he’d been far from reaching the limits of his capabilities. His broad shoulders and muscular physique suggested that fencing was only one of many activities that he enjoyed in his pursuit of a physical challenge.

She should have picked a different sport.

And now he was watching her intently, his dark gaze arrogant and assured as he slowly loosened the fastening at the neck of his jacket to reveal a tantalizing hint of bronzed skin, shiny with the sweat of physical exertion. His eyes demanded that she look only at him, as if he were determined to read everything about her in one searing glance.

Trapped by the force of his bold gaze, Alexa felt something dangerous and unfamiliar flicker to life, and then a hot, instantaneous explosion of sexual awareness engulfed her. Her body burned and melted, and the feeling was deeply shocking because, although she was accustomed to being on the receiving end of male attention, she was not accustomed to responding.

Her knees weakened by the fire in her pelvis, she nevertheless forced herself to hold his gaze, waiting for him to back down and display the deference and respect that she knew was due to her.

He was a bodyguard.

She was a royal princess. Despite her less-than-enviable position in the royal household, she was accustomed to being greeted with the appropriate formality by strangers, but this man clearly wasn’t daunted or in any way impressed by her title or position. Instead he held himself tall and proud, his posture one of authority and command, as if he was used to giving orders and being instantly obeyed.